Writing on the Wall
by CriminalOutsider'sGirl14
Summary: Season 7. Bobby, fed up with his boys, decides to take matters into his own hands when Sam gets sick. Sick!Sam Protective!Dean, Bobby.
1. Chapter 1

**Writing on the Wall**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. (Though I do wish that I did :.**

Summary **:** _Season 7. Bobby, fed up with his boys, decides to take matters into his own hands when Sam gets sick. Sick!Sam Protective!Dean, Bobby._

 **Circa Season 7**

It had been a _long_ week.

Dean was out getting information on their latest case, leaving Sam home alone trying to get some research done. If you could call a sleazy, moldy motel "home".

Sam hasn't slept good for weeks, maybe months (heck, he was lying to himself, he never really slept good), but it was getting worse. After Bobby and everything with Lucifer, he was too stressed to sleep for more than an hour. It was hard to go from 60 down to 0 to fall sleep.

He could feel the effects. His entire body hurt. His head was killing him, and now that he thought about it... So was his throat. Great, all he needed was a cold to finish off his sucky week.

He got up to grab the Advil container off of the nightstand when he saw Bobby's flask. Dean must have forgotten it when he left. Sam's eyes floated around the room, but he couldn't see Bobby.

Sam suddenly sneezed into his elbow, hurting his head even more. He groaned softly, rubbing his temples.

Bobby watched the whole thing silently. Instinctively, he wanted to care for Sam himself, but since Dick he didn't have enough energy to appear to do just that.

He has known for a day or two that Sam was getting sick, but both boys were too in their heads to notice. Sometimes Bobby wanted to smack their thick heads together.

Bobby suddenly had an idea. When Sam went to the bathroom, Bobby followed. (After, of course, Sam had flushed the toilet because Bobby was _not_ messing with that.) When Bobby walked in, the mirror fogged up from the temperature shift.

Sam looked startled. "B-Bobby?" He called before breaking off in a hoarse, racking cough.

Bobby took the opportunity to write on the mirror.

"Sleep," was the first thing he wrote. "Temp." If Bobby couldn't do the things himself, he would at least watch over and make sure Sam did everything to take care of himself that Bobby would.

"I'm fine," Sam lied to the open air, a chill racking his body. The hotel heat was sketchy anyhow, plus Bobby was freezing the fever-ridden Winchester.

"Idgit," Bobby wrote and then underlined.

"Thanks," Sam grumbled, sounding utterly exhausted. He looked like an over-grown kid when he was sick. With everything he had been through, he grew up quick, but deep down he was just a kid. A tall, shaggy-haired kid.

"Who are you talking to?" Sam heard Dean ask him from outside the bathroom. Sam quickly erased Bobby's writing about him being sick before emerging.

"My stupid phone," Sam answered. "It's not cooperating."

Dean shook his head. "You know, talking to inanimate objects is the first sign of insanity."

"So is hearing voices," Sam mumbled, but Dean heard him.

"That was different," Dean told his brother sharply. "And it was _a_ voice."

 _Because that makes so much of a difference,_ Sam though bitterly.

Bobby watched the two bickering, Sam barely remaining on his feet.

"Sit down already! Dean, make him sit down," Bobby tried to instruct his boys, but they didn't hear him.

"I'm gonna hit up the bar, see if I can hear anything about these murders, okay?" Dean grabbed Bobby's flask, much to Bobby's disappointment, and left. It wasn't that Bobby didn't want to be with Dean too, but he was just worried about Sam.

Once in the car, Bobby tried again for Dean to be able to see him. He calmed himself, channeling his energy before...

"Bobby!" Dean gasped, jumping.

"You can see me?" Bobby asked, relieved.

Dean nodded.

"Turn around."

"What? Why?"

"Sam's sick."

That was all Dean needed to hear. He pulled a quick U-Turn before heading back to the motel. Bobby, satisfied with his work, disappeared and simply observed the brothers. They could take care of each other from here.

 **A/n: Chapter 2?**

 **Stay Gold lovelies,**

 **~ Alee XxX**


	2. Chapter 2

**Writing on the Wall**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. (Though I do wish that I did :.**

Summary **:** _Season 7. Bobby, fed up with his boys, decides to take matters into his own hands when Sam gets sick. Sick!Sam Protective!Dean, Bobby._

 **Circa Season 7**

Dean found Sam in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet, shaking. The poor kid looked miserable. Guilt spread through Dean. How could he not have notice earlier?

Dean pulled out a thermometer from the first aid kit they always kept with them. When it beeped after a minute, the thermometer read _102.8_.

It was just Sam's luck. Stubborn as the kid was, he never did anything half way. That included when he was sick. Everything always seemed to go wrong for the boys, luck never seemed to go their way.

"Come on, Sammy. Tylenol, then bed. You look like death warmed over."

"Wow, Dean, what the charmer you are," Sam deadpanned with an eye roll that aggravated his headache.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled sarcastically while Sam downed a few aspirins dry. He didn't argue when Dean told him to go to bed. He was exhausted.

Completely unknown to the world of the living, as Dean watched Sam's chest rise (something Dean did when he was worried about him or couldn't sleep) and fall steadily, Bobby stood behind him, doing the same.

 **(Two days later)**

"Hey, you alright there?"

Sam was on the mend a little bit. His fever was down to hovering around 100.5 and he had a bit more energy than two days ago. He insisted that they should get out on the road, he knew how much Dean hated being cooped up in one place for too long.

Sam swallowed back the coughing fit he was fighting. "Yeah. M'fine, Dean."

"If you say so," Dean answered, trying to hide his concern with a layer of casualness.

Dean noticed Sam's coughs were becoming more frequent. Sam's breathing was getting kind of funny, too. He bit his lip.

"Did you take your asthma medicine today?" Dean finally asked. Sam didn't look at him.

"Sam?"

"Umm... No. We- *cough* ran out 'bout a week ago."

"And you didn't tell me?" Dean demanded.

Sam took a long sip of his water to hold back the coughing. "No. We can't afford it."

Dean cussed under his breath. "Sam, we can afford anything if it has to do with your health, got it?"

Sam went to answer, but he started coughing. Dean knew what was happening when Sam's wheezing got worse and he couldn't catch his breath.

Dean always kept an inhaler on him. He knew what to do, he had dealt with his brother's asthma for years.

Dean pulled off to the side of the road and reached into his pocket until his fingers closed around the cool container. He held it against Sam's blue tinted lip, pumping the medicine once into Sam's lungs. Slowly, his breathing started evening out.

"Need another hit?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head tiredly. The attack had wore out what little energy he had.

"You're okay, little brother," Dean assured him. He would always make sure of it.

 **A/n: Thank you guys so much! You are all so sweet and welcoming. Hope you enjoyed this story. I may write more stories for Supernatural, if someone has a suggestion. :) I can never stay away from writing. If you guys have any requests for sick fics especially or any for this one I may do it.**

 **Stay Gold lovelies,**

 **~ Alee XxX**


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